


you're my all and more

by baeconandeggs, happyxinqs



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Comedy, Fantasy, M/M, Romance, Smut, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 08:25:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18913213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyxinqs/pseuds/happyxinqs
Summary: It's easy to follow fate, especially when it's a friendship forged by both the Heavens and Hell.





	you're my all and more

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt: BAE060**  
>  **Disclaimer: baeconandeggs/the mods is/are not the author/s of this story. Authors will be credited and tagged after reveals.** The celebrities' names/images are merely borrowed and do not represent who the celebrities are in real life. No offense is intended towards them, their families or friends. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this fictional work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
>   
> 
> **Author's Note:** thank you to the chanbaeker for giving such a wonderful prompt!! I hope I was able to do it some justice :) thanks to my mutuals for your support and encouragement, and also, a huge thank you to the BAE mods!! 
> 
> I know I didn't spend as much time on this as I hoped since life kind of took me away from writing, but I really hope you all enjoy it! 
> 
> (also: title taken from lauv’s breathe)

“Well today was the _worst_ ,” Baekhyun huffs, dropping himself onto the couch without bothering to remove any of his layers. He regrets his decision instantly, when he can feel the hardback sitting in his bag immediately dig sharp and hard into the muscle of his back, and he grimaces before he tries wrestling his belongings off him.

“And what hell did today bring?” Chanyeol asks, the interest apparent in his voice. He looks up from his book, carefully sliding his bookmark between the pages before he closes the hardback carefully.

“Is that _The Hobbit_ , _again_?” Baekhyun makes a face when he sees the title written across the spine. 

“I had free time,” Chanyeol shrugs, a large grin on his face. He lifts the book, “It’s a worthwhile read, you know.”

Baekhyun doesn’t answer, too preoccupied with his arm fully stuck in his jacket, trying to pull it off with increasing force as the sleeve continues to further twist inside-out. He almost gives up, closing his eyes in some sort of resignation as he wills some deity Up There to give him a free pass for the rest of the day. The sight is a little on the pathetic side, and Chanyeol attempts to keep his lips in a straight line. It’s definitely embarrassing for Baekhyun, sitting on Chanyeol’s couch with his backpack now lying haphazardly on the floor by his feet (contents starting to roll out because it obviously wasn’t fully fastened, and not only do his books slide out but so does a leaflet titled ‘So You Have IBS’ follow suit). And his arm is still caught in what seems to be the Venus Flytrap of outerwear. 

Chanyeol averts his eyes from the floor (specifically the health clinic pamphlet) and it’s when he decides to ask, “Um, do you need help?”, that Baekhyun stops flapping his arm up and down like he’s attempting to wave a plane down. The rustling from his windbreaker ceases and he looks to him, nodding in some bridled shame. 

Chanyeol keeps his mirth constrained when he pushes himself back from his study table and crosses over. Reaching through the mess of fabric currently entrapping his best friend’s arm, he grabs the cuff of the sleeve and pulls it off Baekhyun in one quick, fluid motion, before draping the jacket over the back of the couch.

“So an idiot almost ran me over, three people stepped on the back of my shoe, I had to wait for _two_ trains to go by before committing myself to the sardine-life and shoving into the third train,” Baekhyun takes a deep breath, counting his list out on his fingers, “and someone took the last banana bread so I was stuck with eight-grain bagel.” He pulls a face, obviously still carrying around a certain soreness about his healthier food alternative (out of all things). 

“Ran you over?” Chanyeol repeats. He’s sitting opposite Baekhyun on the left side of the couch, and he adjusts the black frames slipping down his nose. “Where?”

“He was coming out the garage on that corner of Seventh and Parker,” Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “He wasn’t even looking. Just another entitled asshole driving a SUV with the ugliest bumper sticker.”

Chanyeol smirks at this. “As bad as mine?” 

He blinks, not breaking their eye contact when he opens his mouth, “Listen to me, Park. Nothing, and I mean _nothing_ is as bad as yours. Period.” 

Chanyeol sits back, obviously enthused as he clasps his hands together to rest over his abdomen, reciting the words: “ _If you’re going to ride my ass, at least pull my hair._ Perfection.”

Baekhyun fake-gags, “And, I just threw up in my mouth.” He heaves a pillow at him, with the little _thump_ sounding oddly satisfying as it hits Chanyeol’s stomach. “And that is why I don’t use your car.”

“You say that as if it’s there for your own pleasure whenever you wish.” 

“It’s part of my Best Friend Rights,” Baekhyun responds matter-of-factly, “but your car is ugly and your bumper sticker _definitely_ does not help that at all,” he disapproves sarcastically. “Therefore, you know that I still choose public transit over you.” He slides off the couch, rounding the furniture as he heads to the kitchen.

“I’m not sure if that’s really the insult you think it is, but I’ll pretend to be offended,” Chanyeol says, hand over his heart and mouth parted in fake anguish. 

“Looks like you need some alcohol to drown your sorrow,” Baekhyun seizes his opportunity, two glasses pulled from the cabinet already in hand before he descends on the bottom cupboard closest to the fridge. 

Chanyeol frowns, and he stretches his arms above his head when he gets to his feet and walks over to the kitchen counter. “Don’t you have an early shift tomorrow morning?”

“What?” Baekhyun’s voice comes out slightly muffled, his head fully submerged in Chanyeol’s alcohol cupboard as he searches for the liquor in mind. Leaning forward, Chanyeol rests his forearms on top of the kitchen counter as he continues his conversation with Baekhyun’s backside. 

“Early shift?” He calls out to his ass, voice a little louder since Baekhyun’s selective hearing is just that. Selective. “Tomorrow morning? Something around the hours of six AM? Anything ring a bell?”

Baekhyun resurfaces from the depths of the cupboard, one hand curled around the top of a bottle of vodka, and orange juice in the other palm. He shakes the carton, purposely ignoring Chanyeol’s reminders (read: line of questioning) when he asks, “Isn’t this mine?”

Chanyeol shrugs, giving a vague answer. “Could be.”

He turns the carton around, eyes narrowing as he gestures to the black Sharpie scrawled across the cardboard, reading _Property of BBH_. 

“Well, that answers your question, doesn’t it.” Chanyeol deadpans.

“Pretty sure the last time I was here, you know, when I wrote that this is, in fact, _my_ juice,” Baekhyun waves it around in the air as he nudges the cupboard door shut behind him, “that it was a lot fuller.”

“I could say the same about the vodka you’re holding,” Chanyeol raises his eyebrows, and Baekhyun pauses, alcohol and juice both on the counter as he looks between the two liquids.

He pauses for a moment before baring his teeth with a cheeky smile, “Call it even?” 

“Thirty dollar alcohol, two dollar juice. Sounds about right.”

Baekhyun omits his sarcasm, and he pours out the drinks for the two of them before sliding a glass over to Chanyeol. “Cheers?”

“To what in particular?” Chanyeol inquires, his index finger tapping the side of the glass.

“A shitty day?” 

“It’s a wonder you’re not an alcoholic with the lifetime of shitty days you’ve had,” Chanyeol quips, knocking his drink against Baekhyun’s as they take their first gulps. 

“Well, I have grown into a responsible adult,” Baekhyun replies, “and like you so wonderfully reminded me, I have an early shift.” 

“So you did hear me.”

“Of course, I’m not _that_ deaf. Besides, I need to catch up on my own reading for Monday.”

“How far behind are you?”

Baekhyun taps his finger against his bottom lip, pretending to ponder when he finally says, “Well, if I haven’t started yet, does that really count as ‘behind’?”

Chanyeol doesn’t dignify him with a response, taking a deep breath and choosing to down the rest of his drink in one go instead. He dumps the glass in the sink, indicating at Baekhyun’s own half-full glass with a nod of his head. 

“Well, if your plan is to stay up tonight, then finishing that isn’t going to be doing you any favours.”

“You think I could get through five chapters on corporate governance and policies, sober?” Baekhyun is rhetorical, and he scoops up the bottle and carton in one arm before heading back to plop himself down on the couch. “You are mistaken, my friend.”

Chanyeol pushes his glasses back up his nose, “And this has to happen on the couch? Instead of, I don’t know, four feet thataway, in your room?” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder.

“If blanket is here, Baekhyun is here,” he almost puppy-dog eyes him, slowly pulling the chunky, pink, knitted throw off the back of the sofa until it falls into his lap and he can drape it over his body. 

Chanyeol squeezes the bridge of his nose, “But you snore. _So_ loud.” 

“Who said I was falling asleep here? I’m just getting in my reading, and then I’ll hightail it off to bed in two hours so I can be up bright and early for tomorrow. Responsible adult, as I mentioned before.” 

“You’re going to pass out.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Baekhyun waves his hand in dismissal, opening up the hardback he’s snatched from the floor, “just a few hours of reading-slash-studying-slash-wanting-to-die.”

Chanyeol shrugs, settling himself back down in the armchair opposite Baekhyun, “I give you one hour.”

This catches Baekhyun’s attention, and he narrows his eyes in intrigue, “What’s the bet?”

“Winner gets to pick next movie.” 

“Shit, you’re on,” Baekhyun mirrors his smile. It’s not a huge deal or anything, but Chanyeol has picked the last five films in a row – Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone all the way to Order of the Phoenix – and Baekhyun is really not that keen on finishing the marathon. 

“Stay awake until nine PM, and the Boy Who Lived streak is done,” Chanyeol taunts, picking _The Hobbit_ back up from the coffee table before opening to his bookmark. 

“Park, I have the alcohol _and_ motivation. I’m going to be Voldemort up in this bitch and Avada Kedavra your Potterhead ass.”

Chanyeol guffaws, the snort loud and heavy when he slaps his knee, “You are such a fucking nerd. And that’s coming from _me_.”

“The only explanation is that you’ve obviously infected me. It’s been known to happen when you live in such close quarters with the Geekiest Man alive.” Baekhyun remarks, teasing.

Forty minutes later, Chanyeol is still going strong at almost two-hundred pages into his book, and Baekhyun is fast asleep, snores trickling out of his mouth at oscillating decibels. It only takes the briefest of glances before a smile graces Chanyeol’s face. 

Even when unconscious, Baekhyun still can’t be quiet, and Chanyeol chuckles to himself, if only to muffle the thundering of his heartbeat.

\+ + + 

Chanyeol stares down at the street below him, watching the small figures of people still awake, make their way across pavement and crosswalk to the warmth of their homes. He’s hidden by the darkness of the night sky, crouching on the edge of the roof six storeys up. There’s a frigid chill in the air, but a simple windbreaker is all the layering he needs. His blood does run on the hotter side of things, after all.

Hellfire hot. 

It’s a little past midnight, some twenty minutes after Chanyeol ducked out the fire escape (but not before throwing another blanket onto Baekhyun, just to make sure he didn’t get cold while curled up on the couch). It was inevitable that he would lose the bet, to be honest. Chanyeol knows him way too well.

\+ 

It’s been twenty-four years since they first met, back when they were fetuses kicking in the womb. From the moment their mothers exchanged phone numbers at a birthing class, their fates were sealed. Baekhyun’s mother was six months’ pregnant at the time, and Chanyeol was due to come out in a little over four months. Their names had already been picked out; Chanyeol was Chanyeol, and Baekhyun was Baekhyun, long before they arrived into the world.

Baekhyun’s birthday came first, on a warm, spring day that brought sunshine and cherry blossoms. Despite being heavily-expectant herself, Chanyeol’s mother still beared congratulations, balloons, and flowers for her best friend and newborn. And three weeks later, baby Baekhyun was back at the hospital to repay the favour, carrying a stuffed monkey plushie to welcome Chanyeol. 

At six months old, Baekhyun was a curious one. He had already started to somewhat crawl (as much as he could anyways) and would heave himself closer to Chanyeol’s side no matter what. Chanyeol would smile, kicking his miniature feet around in excitement at the sight of Baekhyun. Their playdates tended to be long, and consisted mainly of bouncing in their little baby jumpers and sprawling out on the floor as they accustomed themselves to using their limbs. 

When naptime came around, Baekhyun was the one who would cry out for Chanyeol, to the extent where Chanyeol’s mother would be forced to move him from his own crib to Baekhyun’s, just for a short while as the two babies fell asleep. It was the sight of their hands clasped together, tiny fingers curling and intertwining, that would stay her for a moment, until they had to be separated once again. 

At three years old, their favourite toy was a ball. Just a plain, blue ball. No decorations or patterns, but it could bounce very well, and they would spend many days playing catch or kicking the ball as far as they could, before both of them would start to run after it on their little legs.

When it reached their seventh year, they decided to have their first joint birthday party. It wasn’t surprising that their guest list only consisted of each other, and they reluctantly added a few other children in their class at the insistence of their mothers.

When they got to eight years old, Chanyeol had started his spurt of growth, and loved the fact that he could see over the top of Baekhyun’s head. Baekhyun wasn’t as enthusiastic about it, but it helped when his best friend could reach the jar of cookies placed at the far back corner of the top kitchen shelf (with the assistance of a ladder, of course). Baekhyun’s support of Chanyeol’s emerging height was gained in favour of chocolate chip cookies and shortbread that, despite their continuous denial to their parents, still ruined their dinner. 

They were each other’s best friend since before they were born, and this didn’t falter once, even after years spent in the other’s company. It was as if one had some gravitational pull on the other, or fate had made it so. 

At least, in Chanyeol’s mind it was. He used to think that their destiny was so coincidental, that he had such great luck to have found his best friend so early in life. It wasn’t long after that he learned just how premeditated their relationship was: a match made in the Heavens.

Literally.

It was a month before Chanyeol’s tenth birthday (and some days before Baekhyun’s as well), when he found out. He had flung his backpack and shoes off after coming home from school, and leaped up the stairs (not missing his daily duty of giving his mother a quick hug and kiss hello) for Street Fighter. 

He didn’t expect to be interrupted the moment his bedroom door swung open, when his eyes fell on a man sitting on his covers as if he were the furniture, belonging in that very spot. 

“Hello, young Park. Pleasure to meet you,” his voice had been strangely soft and soothing, almost as if it were an antidote able to remove any impression of fear in Chanyeol. He had felt utterly calm in this stranger’s presence, and it was a peculiar inclination that persuaded him to shut his bedroom door. Being comfortable enough, he took a step backwards to push it closed behind him. For some reason, he knew not to let anyone overhear. 

“Hello,” he had nodded in greeting, keeping his tone reserved. “Who are you? Does my mother know you’re here?”

“No, she doesn’t,” the man was honest, and he rose to his feet to outstretch a hand for Chanyeol to shake. “And she won’t find out. My name is Junmyeon. I am a seer.”

“A seer?” Chanyeol had repeated, scratching at the hair behind his ear. “What exactly does that mean?”

“It means I have a certain ability,” Junmyeon had started to explain. “I can predict and see things in the future.”

“Like, a psychic? With a crystal ball and stuff?”

Junmyeon had chuckled, biting his bottom lip when he replied, “In a way, yes. But I have no need for a crystal ball or any other accessory. It’s solely in my mind.” He tapped his temple, giving Chanyeol a quick wink.

“I don’t understand,” Chanyeol’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” 

Junmyeon had looked very well-groomed, with dark hair fluffed up into soft tufts resembling a spread plumage of feathers. His shoes were leather, with laces tied in small, tight knots, and the thread count of his black suit landed high in the 190s. 

He had taken a slow breath, his words patient and contemplative when he finally said: “I am not of this world. Actually, I am a demon. Just like you are, in fact.”

\+ 

It had taken Chanyeol a full week to accept this, even after the constant displays from Junmyeon. He would appear in his room at any given time of the day, scaring the life out of him on several occasions (most particularly when he would be returning from a shower, towel looped around his waist, and pits and nipples exposed). Junmyeon would conjure fire from his bare hands, and Chanyeol thought he was going burn the whole house to the ground. It took some coaxing, and more unexpected visits, before he finally succumbed to the bare reality of things.

Especially when he made flames for the first time. 

His practice came easy, and it didn’t take Chanyeol long to be able to manipulate hellfire. Teleporting was a different story, and Junmyeon tired out quickly trying to maintain his patience. It took him years, just shy of his thirteenth birthday, when he finally managed to move through hellfire. It wasn’t intentional; one minute he was in the boy’s bathroom at school, and the next he found himself in a forest, the ground damp with the morning’s dew, and sunlight filtering through the spaces between the trees. It took him no time at all to teleport back, when the panic coursed through him at the thought of missing second period. Or being lost forever. But it was mainly the former. 

And just like that, his strength and abilities only ever flourished. 

Things didn’t change between the two boys – Chanyeol had sworn an oath in Hell itself, under the sky and Heavens, to keep a secret. His nature (and mouth) were both bounded by fate, and even though Baekhyun was still his best friend, he couldn’t let one word slip from his lips. It wasn’t that hard to keep it hush (considering Baekhyun’s lack of an attention span rivaled that of a goldfish), when Baekhyun had a natural talent of filling any gaps in conversation, and was able to gloss over the most imperative of details unless Chanyeol pointed it out otherwise.

It was a struggle, but the physical obstruction helped, when he was literally not able to say a word. He had tried, of course, to tell his mother, but loud noise would fill his head for hours and nothing but squealing would come from his mouth. Hell’s punishment for disobeying.

He had almost slipped up twice as well, with Baekhyun. The first time was the day he found out. He didn’t fully believe it, of course, the same as any other almost-ten-year-old. Once Junmyeon had left (disappearing in hellfire, not through the normal human ways of using the front door), Chanyeol had immediately tried to call Baekhyun. 

Neither the Heavens nor Hell would allow it – the connection would drop six seconds after dialing, no matter if he used his home phone or tried to video call him on his computer. Chanyeol sincerely blamed this problem on spotty internet (before he knew it was the angels’ doing), and even floated the idea to his mother of moving neighbourhoods where fibre optic would reach. 

The second time was when they were fourteen years old. Bullies had taken an interest in Baekhyun, specifically due to his smaller stature compared to the rest of the children their age. The three boys had walked away with bruises and the very forceful suggestion to leave Baekhyun alone (a little bit of mind-manipulation practice was good for Chanyeol, according to Junmyeon anyways). 

Chanyeol had almost divulged just how he was able to turn them away, being so proud of his improving abilities that he wanted to share with his best friend. 

To be honest, the entire thing could have been fixed without any physical need. 

Chanyeol had told Junmyeon that the punches were just for fun.

But besides being a supernatural creature of sorts, Chanyeol was still a regular boy. A half-human, anyways. Growing at the same rate of the other humans around him, nothing was super out of the ordinary. His father had been a demon, truth undisclosed to his mother, but he was never really in the picture in the first place. 

Considering his existence as a half-demon forbidden to admit his identity, there wasn’t much that changed in his daily life. 

And then Junmyeon told Chanyeol he was ready. The Heavens and Hell had decided to finally reveal what was to be of him, and bestowed the position of guardian demon. 

Baekhyun’s guardian demon.

\+ 

And right now, he’s got a job to do.

A Ford SUV comes into view, rounding the corner of Ninth and Parker. Despite not needing the affirmation, it doesn’t take long for Chanyeol to confirm it’s the same guy, when he can see the bumper sticker large and orange on the back of the window.

Chanyeol’s glasses are tucked away in his inner pocket, with his dark red hair brushed back exposing his forehead. It’s easier to see when he doesn’t have strands of hair blocking his view, or transparent plastic sitting in front of his eyes for the sole purpose of a full-human disguise. 

His frames are as much a camouflage as a hindrance of sorts; without glasses, his eyes shine a brilliant ice-blue that can observe through the darkest of nights, from kilometres away. They started changing once hellfire started flowing through his veins for the first time – the brown of his eyes lightened significantly over the years, reflecting tropical ocean. Junmyeon had told him his eyes would be much bluer in his future, a signal of his undeniable strength as a demon. 

“ _Honk if you keep up with the Kardashians_ ,” Chanyeol reads aloud to himself, pulling a face as he rubs a hand harshly at the back of his neck. “Yikes, Baekhyun. How could anything be worse than _that_?”

He waits for the driver to pull into the underground garage, and he examines the building for a moment. The apartments are wide and spacious, boasting high glass windows and a brick facade. It all exudes ‘expensive’, with what appears to be oak hardwood flooring and a whole lot of high-end furniture.

“Well, now that he’s made me sufficiently jealous,” Chanyeol murmurs to himself, before closing his eyes. He lifts a foot, hovering it well past the edge of the roof before stepping down into the empty air below him.

He falls quickly, but teleports even faster. The flame spreads from his feet all the way to the tips of his ears, and he is engulfed in fire for a fraction of a second, the light blinding even to him. It’s when his eyelids flutter open that he finds himself in the still atmosphere of the parking garage; the quiet is a vast contrast to the rushing wind that passed his ears, mere seconds ago when he jumped. 

Being supernatural has its perks in the end, when he can move across great distances in two seconds, and all that’s needed is a little hellfire to spark his travel.

The owner of the SUV is stepping out of his car by the time Chanyeol rounds the other vehicles in the lot. He continues his walk, casual and slow as he finally comes to a stop a few feet in front of the man.

Chanyeol’s appearance goes unnoticed at first, considering the man is too busy grabbing his belongings from the backseat, until he slams the car door shut and almost jumps at the sight of him. 

“Uh, can I help you?” He asks, tone slightly irritated (but Chanyeol can sense his underlying fear a tad more). 

“This is your car, right?” Chanyeol’s hands are shoved in his pockets, and he rocks back on his heels as he mock-whistles. His hood is pulled low over his head, keeping his eyes in the shadow. He’s learned that it’s better to not scare the living shit out of humans right away. He likes to give it a few minutes, at the least. It’s more fun that way. 

The man is disgruntled, and he snaps out, “What’s it to you?”, before brushing past him firmly. 

Chanyeol just smiles, more to himself, and he spins on his left foot to face the retreating figure of the male. “Unfortunately, I need something from you.” 

After all, he’s got to protect Baekhyun. 

This stops him in his tracks, and he turns back to glance at Chanyeol. The man is bigger than him, with broader shoulders, a sizeable torso, and larger arm muscles that could probably pummel Chanyeol into the ground.

If he weren’t half-demon. 

“Excuse me?” The man raises an offended eyebrow. “Do I even know you? Who _are_ you?”

“Well, that’s a heavy question. You could think of me as a lesson,” Chanyeol offers with a friendly grin, before dropping his chin, eyebrows furrowing together as his face clouds, “or as a nightmare. Your choice.” He’s a walking cliche, all right, but it works. 

“Listen here, buddy. I don’t have the time for this. Just fuck off, okay?” He dismisses him with a choice finger sticking up, and continues walking towards the elevators in the center of the underground lot. The lights overhead are bright, and the male’s footsteps sound loud and harsh as he storms off.

Chanyeol waits a moment until he’s reached the lifts and the call button is lit up. He takes a deep breath, a sinister smile curving his lips upwards. 

“Wrong answer.”

\+ + + 

Junmyeon had laid out Chanyeol’s duties for him the moment he became a guardian demon. It wasn’t much to remember, and consisted of very logical rules that he had to preserve.

Being a demon didn’t necessarily mean Chanyeol was inherently evil, or even that he had a proclivity for trouble. It was mainly a divide for political purposes, started thousands of years ago when angels and demons were first created.

Just like yin and yang, it was all a matter of balance between the Heavens above, and Hell below.

Guardian angels were there to soothe and ease the living, which humans often mistook for ‘luck’. Guardian demons existed to correct the scales; allowing bad fortune to transpire on ‘unlucky’ people first, before intervening.

Demons were powerful of course, compared to the humans they walked and lived among. But second-rate to the winged creatures above. Their abilities were solely for reactive responses. Angels could step in before any misfortunate would befall on their human; as demons, they acted more like karma. Retaliating only after some affinity had struck their charge.

It was for the sake of harmony. 

And Baekhyun, well, he’s an unlucky duck.

Chanyeol has only been his guardian officially for a few years, when he came of proper age at seventeen, and was old enough to understand the tremendous responsibility (and skilled enough with his hellfire).

Baekhyun’s lack of luck isn’t anything dire, but trivial little issues that add up time and time and again. 

From consistently losing his credit card, to getting his bike stolen, to experiencing a broken water heater in every apartment he moved to. Baekhyun had shredded three sweaters (accidentally, of course, but Chanyeol still questioned whether he even knew how to use a washing machine and dryer), missed deadlines by a matter of minutes (all due to his internet crapping out at the best time), and almost burnt his kitchen down to the ground. Twice.

It was an easy decision, to ask Baekhyun to move in with him. He told himself it was for guardian duties, to keep a better eye on his charge, but having his best friend around meant more than that. His very presence was a comfort to Chanyeol.

Baekhyun brings him warmth, with his laughter and smile that’s too infectious to not return, and it’s funny how Chanyeol can feel his blazing effect more than his hellfire.

\+ + + 

“Come _on_ , Chanyeol, we’ve been at this for hours,” Baekhyun whines. He rolls his eyes at the male sitting beside him, who seems perfectly indifferent to the idea of spending (what seems like) the rest of eternity explaining this to him.

Chanyeol simply says, “That’s not my fault.” He twirls the pen around the knuckle of his thumb, watching it spin continuously as he flicks it.

“Are you calling me slow?” Baekhyun raises his eyebrows.

“Well, I’m not calling you that, but I’m also not, _not_ calling you that,” he grins, the tease hanging off the curl of his lips.

“Maybe I should just drop the class,” Baekhyun muses, with too much glee for this situation. The glint of optimism is apparent in his eyes, when he thinks of the opportunity at never having to say ‘probably’ in Spanish again (Baekhyun always stumbles over the middle part, elongating the word too much by adding an extra syllable in there when he mumbles out _probabablemente_ ).

“If you want,” Chanyeol shrugs, somewhat apathetic. He adjusts his glasses when he feels the frames slipping down his nose. “It’s up to you in the end.”

Baekhyun stares back down at the paper in front of him, scrunching his nose up in dissatisfied resignation when he heaves a sigh. “Let’s just get this stupid fucking preterite perfect tense over with.”

He hears the low chuckle from his left. Chanyeol’s feet are up on the coffee table, pen still twirling in his hand as he scans the Sudoku grid in the newspaper. It’s getting colder, and the pink throw is spread across both of them, but bunched up mainly in Baekhyun’s lap of course.

He adjusts, fluffing more of the blanket towards Chanyeol, who doesn’t look away from his newspaper when he puts his hand out to stop him, ceasing Baekhyun’s movements.

“It’s okay, you can take all the blanket. I know you get cold,” Chanyeol says it so matter-of-factly, and he puts down his Sudoku for a moment to drape the entire throw over Baekhyun. “It’s kind of chilly, right? I’ll make some hot chocolate.” 

He gets off the couch, giving Baekhyun the briefest of tousles when he ruffles his hair tenderly. He doesn’t notice that Baekhyun’s practically swaddled in the fabric now, and he walks away to the kitchen. 

And there it is. The affection that Baekhyun revels in. 

He hums a quiet ‘thank you’ in reply, sinking back into the couch when he ducks his head down. He’s blushing, cheeks warming up to a pinkish hue, when he savours the words that slipped from Chanyeol’s mouth.

They’re best friends, have been for their whole lives. But Baekhyun has found himself yearning for more recently. He steals a glance to his left, eyes quickly scanning over the look of concentration in Chanyeol’s eyes, and his bottom lip that sticks out slightly. With his large ears, Baekhyun used to joke that Chanyeol must have been part-elf.

Chanyeol always used to take such delight in that joke, clapping his hands loudly and slapping his palms against Baekhyun’s back, thighs, arms, wherever he could reach, when his eyes would crinkle and laughter would roll from his throat.

Baekhyun hadn’t understood what had been so hysterical about his little quip, but it stuck with him. 

Chanyeol is one of a kind. 

Even with his Funko Pop! character collection and _Haikyuu!!_ figurines that take up an entire shelf in their shared bookcase, his large oversized hoodies that drown all six-feet of him, and the rounded glasses that enlarge his eyes and ears even more, Baekhyun is still falling for him.

\+ + + 

It’s been a long day.

Not as long as Baekhyun originally thought it would be that morning, but sometimes there’s a tiny sliver of a silver lining in his life, such as when work sends him home early. Even despite the extra few hours of day he has left, he’s exhausted enough that he’s considering passing out as soon as he steps foot into the apartment. 

He knows Chanyeol has no plans, considering it was D&D the night before, and he will most likely be spending the day strategizing for the next dungeon or dragon he wants to throw into the game.

Pulling out his phone, he dials Chanyeol’s number. Cradling it between his ear and shoulder, Baekhyun steps onto the bus and scans his transit pass as the machine lights up red. 

The bus driver gives him a look, and he heaves a big sigh, digging out some loose change to feed into the machine. The coins clink as they tumble down the metal slot, and the screen flashes _Thank you_. 

He nods at the driver before making his way down to the last row of chairs, and he settles into the far left seat. The phone is still ringing, and Baekhyun lets the call carry for another two rings before hanging up, assuming Chanyeol to be temporarily occupied.

He sends off a message, _will be there in ten minutes!_ , as the bus doors close and the vehicle starts to move.

\+ 

It takes him a little under thirty minutes by the time he’s walking down the hallway to the apartment. A stalled car in the middle of the junction forced Baekhyun to get off the bus and walk the rest of the way, and he’s sufficiently sweaty and tired once he’s jamming his key into the lock.

Stepping through the doorway, he shuts the door behind him as he sheds his shoes and jacket. Instinctively, he knows something is up, and his eyebrows furrow when he calls out, “Chanyeol?”

There’s no answer, but the soft noise filling the apartment is becoming more apparent to Baekhyun, and he tries to envision what could be the source of the sound. 

Gravitating towards it, Baekhyun throws any caution (he probably should possess) out the window as his in-built curiosity and nosiness takes over. A blazing light filters into the hallway, and at a first glance, Baekhyun assumes it’s the harsh rays of the sun. But then he notices the crack in Chanyeol’s door, and the light that is squeezing through the space between the door and frame. 

He squints when he pushes the door open slowly, calling out Chanyeol’s name once more.

It’s funny how the sight before him does little to invoke any panic or surprise. In fact, Baekhyun tilts his head to the side, coughing into a closed fist to get his best friend’s attention.

“Um, Chanyeol. What are you doing?”

Chanyeol’s eyes open quick, almost bulging out of his head when he sees Baekhyun. The flames immersing him extinguish just as hastily, and he scrambles up off the floor in record time, as if that will turn back the clock and erase the past twenty seconds. The quiet in the room is deafeningly awkward, until they both see the little flame that’s still alight, eating the threads in the right-hand corner of the rug. Chanyeol lands a foot square on top of the fire, stamping it out hard as he pounds his foot into the floor. 

They fall back into silence as the two of them stare at one another (and Chanyeol tries to ignore the little smoke tendrils wisping from his charred rug). Baekhyun is still standing in the open doorway, right hand holding onto the doorknob. He swallows. Hard.

It’s difficult to ignore what _just_ happened, but Baekhyun pushes that aside for now. Temporarily.

His eyes travel a little too far south down Chanyeol’s body, glazing over the exposed defined muscle carved out on his torso. His sweats are hanging low ( _extremely_ low, actually) that he can see his abdominal muscles shaped in a very tight ‘V’. Small droplets of perspiration have formed from the sheen covering his entire body, and they run down the length of his abdomen before disappearing into the waistband of his pants. 

There are many possibilities of what words Baekhyun could string together to form a sentence, and the few that come straight to mind are something regarding Chanyeol’s lack of a shirt, but he chooses to collect his thoughts for a few moments. 

And then he speaks.

“Were you, um, just on _fire_?”

\+ 

“A demon?” Baekhyun repeats, his voice not as shocked as Chanyeol would have thought. He did just see him practically baste in blazing hot flames after all.

They’ve migrated to the living room, with Chanyeol sitting cross-legged on the floor (bare torso thankfully covered up with clothing) as Baekhyun curls his legs up to his chest on the sofa opposite. The stillness between them was painful, when Chanyeol had suggested they discuss this over some tea. Baekhyun had wordlessly agreed, and they remained mute whilst the kettle boiled water.

This is new ground for Chanyeol, and he’s never felt his nerves go so haywire. Whilst he never explicitly outright told Baekhyun, his secret is out. It’s against his oath, and he doesn’t know what happens from here. He’s assuming he’s in a very grey area, considering Junmyeon hasn’t appeared to smite him, and he’s had no subliminal message from any angels.

(Chanyeol’s thinking of words materializing in blood on the walls spelling out ‘Death’, or at least something as dramatic). 

And not only is this extremely taboo, it’s Baekhyun. 

Baekhyun, his charge. 

Baekhyun, his best friend.

Baekhyun, his first and only love.

Chanyeol doesn’t say anything, keeping his gaze with Baekhyun indiscernible. And so Baekhyun starts to ramble. “I mean, I’ve never heard of a guardian demon. Like a guardian angel, sure. Everyone’s heard of them. With the wings and maybe halos? They have halos right? Or is that a myth? Oh my God, am I offending you? I don’t know. Maybe the church got their shit wrong. But like, I didn’t know they actually existed. Isn’t that all fiction? I mean, it’s got to just be made-up, right? Like you’re not _actually_ a demon?” 

At this, he nods slowly.

“We both exist,” Chanyeol begins to explain. He pulls at his sleeves, trying to cover his hands as much as possible and shrink back into his hoodie (a yellow one, this time, with a little cactus and the writing _Don’t be a prick!_ sewn in the center). He’s exposed. 

“I don’t know that much to be honest. I mean, my history is a little foggy, and Junmyeon hasn’t even told me anything from before five hundred years ago.”

“Junmyeon?” Baekhyun presses, and Chanyeol’s mouth forms an ‘O’ right before he claps a hand over it.

“Oh shit. Shouldn’t have mentioned him. Ignore that.” Chanyeol turns his head away to stare at the floor, hoping the redness in his cheeks fades quickly. He can feel the heat.

Baekhyun gingerly asks, “Who is Junmyeon? I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but as your _Best Friend_ and all…”

He puts so much emphasis on his words, Chanyeol can practically hear the capitals. He allows himself a small laugh before the room descends into silence again.

He knows Baekhyun is trying to alleviate the undeniable tension and bewilderment of this entire situation, but if anything, it makes it worse. He knows he didn’t exactly run for the hills when Junmyeon arrived at his doorstep (metaphorically) that fateful day, but he chalks that up to his seer’s meditative abilities. 

Chanyeol hasn’t intentionally placed any thought into Baekhyun’s head, and he’s acting like they’re having a grand old chat over ice cream. 

He feels Baekhyun’s hand on his knee, the touch deeply reassuring, when he gives it a little squeeze, “Don’t worry. You don’t have to tell me. But I do have one more question.”

Chanyeol gives the smallest of nods, bottom lip slightly pursed when he tries to gage Baekhyun’s emotion.

“So you have powers… Can you show me?”

Chanyeol is taken aback, eyebrows furrowing when he clarifies, “Is that all you want to say?” Baekhyun without a filter isn’t Baekhyun at all, even with the sincerest of situations. 

Baekhyun shrugs, unfurling his legs as he stretches them out in front of him, “I don’t know. I have a lot to ask, but I’m kind of really curious about your abilities.”

“My abilities.” Chanyeol repeats.

“Yep,” he nods excitedly. “Like I’m guessing you can’t ever burn since you were _sitting_ in fire just now, but can you do other things?”

“How are you not more shocked by all of this? Or like, running for the doors?”

“Well, just give me a minute,” Baekhyun counters. It is a lot to process, that’s for sure. 

“Give you a minute _before_ you run for the doors?” It’s Chanyeol’s turn to ease in the joke, and Baekhyun rolls his eyes.

“I’m not running anywhere. Yes, this is weird. Super weird. But I can believe it. Mainly because I did see you on fucking fire for a good minute, and you’re still alive and talking to me right now.”

“Understandable,” Chanyeol strokes his chin, running his palm over the side of his jaw.

“I mean, we’re best friends, Park. No supernatural crap is going to change that. You’re still Chanyeol. You’ve been like this since we were ten. What do I have to be scared of?”

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol sounds a bit meek here, and he lowers his voice before saying, “I mean, I was scared.”

“Yeah, you were ten. I’m surprised you didn’t wet your Iron Man covers.”

“Hey!” Chanyeol protests, eyebrows furrowing, “I got my Iron Man sheets when I was _thirteen_ , thank you very much.”

“Oh, my sincere apologies,” Baekhyun pretends to bow, “I hope I did not offend, oh worthy being.” He teases, eyes gleaming with humour.

Baekhyun isn’t scared, or apprehensive. He’s accepting.

\+ + + 

“Ugh, don’t run,” Chanyeol complains, not bothering to take after the man.

He’s got him scared, especially when he flashed his ice-blue eyes and the male booked it, backpedalling as he took off in a sprint.

This guy isn’t necessarily the worst of them, but stealing something definitely falls into the ‘Bad’ category of things, and Chanyeol is thrilled to dole out punishment.

“All you need to do is give it back,” Chanyeol cups his hands around his mouth, trying to raise the volume of his voice, but it’s no use.

Sighing, Chanyeol makes his way in the direction the man ran, turning around the corner of the alley to find himself on another backstreet. It’s not exactly nighttime yet, but this was karma that couldn’t necessarily wait. He would lose him if he didn’t act now.

While Chanyeol is strong, his seeking abilities are still developing. 

His strides are long, and he slips between little patches of light streaming between the buildings, and the shadow that cools the air and ground. The male is frantic, climbing up the fire escape of what seems to be an abandoned residential building, and Chanyeol wonders what item is worth this much trouble. 

He stops directly below the man, tilting his head up as he watches the mugger glance down in anxiety every few seconds, either because of a fear of heights, or of Chanyeol. 

And he hadn’t even used his hellfire yet.

Chanyeol waits until he’s a few floors up before he summons his flames, teleporting vertically to materialize on the top stair of the fifth floor.

“Are you done now?” He’s almost annoyed. 

The male shrieks in terror, and Chanyeol nearly rolls his eyes, before reaching out. His fingers grasp a fistful of fabric, and Chanyeol pulls him towards him by the front of his shirt.

“Don’t fucking mug people, buddy. It’s not cool,” he’s casual but sincere, and the guy tries to fight, clawing at Chanyeol’s arm to let him go.

“Get the fuck off!” The man grits out, and he manages to land a side-punch to Chanyeol’s head.

That does little to help _his_ side of the situation, and Chanyeol merely shakes his head. 

He pierces him with a stare, knowing the blue of his eyes are intensifying. The colour starts to swirl, misting over to become a cool-grey shade, and Chanyeol focuses on the mental image in his head.

The man, holding onto the railings of the fire escape for dear life, knuckles turning white from the strength of his grip. Legs flailing underneath him as he looks down to see fifty-something feet below him.

Chanyeol transmits this to the man’s mind, and he can feel him go slack a little in his grip. He knows the male is imagining it, obviously against his will, and Chanyeol takes the chance to pat him down. He finds what he’s looking for in the man’s back pocket, and quickly opens it to confirm it’s the correct item. A little sarcastic laugh almost escapes his lips, but Chanyeol stays professional, and he tucks it away into his own coat pocket.

Releasing the image, Chanyeol continues his glare, narrowing his eyes. “You’re never going to steal again. Got it?”

The man nods earnestly this time, obviously traumatized by Chanyeol’s abilities, and Chanyeol seems satisfied enough with this answer. He lets him go, shaking his arms out.

“Seriously, who are you?” The man manages to speak out, and Chanyeol ignores him. 

“Also, there’s like ten dollars in there. Jesus, man. Get a fucking job. You’re wearing Calvin Klein.”

\+ 

Chanyeol slides his shoes off before padding into the living room.

“Here you go,” he tosses the object into Baekhyun’s lap before dropping onto the left end of the couch, chest rising and falling softly.

“My wallet? You got it?” Baekhyun is astonished, and he quickly opens it up and rifles through the contents.

“I think it’s all there,” Chanyeol says, cracking open an eye as he watches him finger through the folds and pockets.

Baekhyun lights up, his interest in his belonging now pushed aside when he fixates on Chanyeol. “So how did you do it?” He’s inquisitive and anticipating, and Chanyeol almost laughs.

He drops a hand over his eyes, running it down his face before sitting up in his seat. Pointing a finger at Baekhyun, he replies, “I can’t tell you that.”

“That’s so unfair! I didn’t even know you were going. I feel like as my demon, you have to tell me these things.”

“Try and ask the Heavens then,” Chanyeol shrugs. He picks up the remote on the coffee table, flicking on Netflix as he scrolls to his List.

“Half-Blood Prince?” He grins, and Baekhyun lets out a long sigh before placing his wallet on the table. His tone isn’t exactly eager, but a bet is a bet, and he concedes.

“Proceed, then.”

\+ + + 

Chanyeol doesn’t expect this call. It’s too soon, too sudden, and he’s running.

Running, because he doesn’t know where to go. Running, because he isn’t sure where to find him. 

Baekhyun had left him a voice message, and it’s all Chanyeol can do to not burn everything to the ground as his words repeat successively in his mind.

_Park, I don’t know where I am._

_Can you come get me please?_

_Chanyeol, there’s a–_

_… dying… please_

_Help me._

The connection didn’t help, when the static overpowered Baekhyun’s voice that Chanyeol could only catch fragments of his sentences. 

He could teleport all over the city, but his emotions are interfering with his energy, and he doesn’t know if he can even summon hellfire right now from his palms, let alone travel through it. 

He’s blaming himself, almost to the point of tears. A mix of anger and frustration sweeps over him, when he knows it’s his fault. Baekhyun’s call had come hours ago, when he was with Junmyeon.

Getting berated, for allowing his human to find out, but nothing more. 

It turns out there are loopholes in everything, and even the angels can’t uphold all regulations.

“Basically, as long as Baekhyun doesn’t _tell_ anybody, you’re both fine,” Junmyeon had informed him, arms crossed and face not happy.

“If he does?”

“You’re both fucked,” Junmyeon was blatant.

Chanyeol had looked down to the ground, moving a lone pebble with the toe of his shoe, “So, our fates are linked?”

Junmyeon shrugged, tone lightening ever-so-slightly when he said, “Have been since before you were born.”

Chanyeol fights back this thought, not allowing himself to think what were to happen if he couldn’t guard his human, if he wasn’t the guardian demon he was supposed to be, and what would happen to Baekhyun.

He’s lost, and needs Chanyeol.

It takes a large amount of hellfire to manipulate in order to seek, and Chanyeol ducks down an alleyway out of sight.

He pockets his glasses, letting his eyes acclimatize to his surroundings, before taking a deep breath. And then he summons his fire.

The flames don’t start off slow at all, and spread through his entire body. They run through his veins, directing themselves via his network of nerves and blood vessels as they reach every part of his body, from his toes to the tips of his fingers. He tips his head back, allowing the fierce heat to circulate all within him. 

Hellfire is honestly remarkable, Chanyeol thinks. Instant contact incinerates the strongest of substances, but to him it feels like the lightest of breezes against his skin.

It takes another few minutes before his seeking kicks in, and his blank mind suddenly fills with rapid images, of Baekhyun, of their apartment, of his workplace, of university. And then the illusion of a pathway materializes, and Chanyeol instantly ceases his fire.

The river.

\+ 

It doesn’t take long to find Baekhyun once he teleports to the riverbank. He turns right, jogging closer to the trees as his eyes scan as far as he can see. He concentrates on the forest, wondering how Baekhyun even wound up here, when his ears tickle and he whips his head around.

He hears his laugh. It’s faint, from several kilometres away, but he hears it nonetheless.

And it only impels Chanyeol to quicken his speed.

He runs down the length of the river, until he looks towards the boardwalk and sees a familiar bright blue hoodie, with a mop of brown curls sitting atop, perched on the stairs. With a dog in his arms. 

“Oh my God, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol breathes out, heart beating too quick for him to even feel the sensation of relief wash over him. “Baekhyun!”

He doesn’t bother checking his surroundings before teleporting, vanishing in a rapid burst of heat and flame to reappear twenty feet away, mere steps away from Baekhyun. 

“Oh, hi Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says, smiling up at him as he continues to stroke his hands through the fur of the puppy. “That was cool! What’s up?”

“What’s _up_?” Chanyeol almost screeches, but he manages to hold himself back in favour of sounding more composed. “You called me. You left me a message. You were, I mean, you sounded in trouble?”

It’s a question, and his pitch inclines on the last sentence. 

“Oh, right,” Baekhyun purses his lips, obviously about to speak more, but then he stays quiet and looks back down at the dog lapping up his attention. A beagle-corgi mix, with small droopy ears that flop back and forth as the puppy tilts his head left and right to stare at Chanyeol.

He ignores the dog, too preoccupied with the issue at hand.

“Um, Baekhyun?” Chanyeol prompts, and his best friend slowly nods, distracted beyond anything, and his hand is _still_ running through the fur of the dog. It’s a little infuriating, and he kind of wants to pick him up and throttle him. 

“Well, I did get lost,” Baekhyun begins, his words coming out at a rate so slow that Chanyeol really wishes he could control time as well, “but not really? I mean I was going for a run through the park and everything and then my phone battery was getting really low, and the sun was going down so I thought I would call you to come pick me up.”

“You said ‘dying’, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol is direct.

Baekhyun pulls his phone from his pocket to show him the black screen. “Yeah, it’s dead now. Battery crapped out on me and everything.” He strokes his phone, giving it small pets of affection like it were the puppy by his feet. “You were so strong,” he continues, talking to his device like it can understand. 

Chanyeol pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why the fuck did you say ‘help me’?”

“I’m really hungry,” Baekhyun gives the excuse. “If I don’t eat in the next ten minutes, I’m going to wither away.”

Chanyeol almost laughs. A mix between a unbelievable frustration, and a joyful ecstasy. He grabs him by the shoulders, pulling him up to his feet as he tows him closer towards him. 

“Jesus, Baekhyun. Don’t ever fucking do that to me again,” Chanyeol whispers, hands on both sides of Baekhyun’s face. They’re inches apart, and Chanyeol looks close into his eyes, with nothing but air separating their glances. 

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun begins, blinking. “Have your eyes always been so blue?”

Chanyeol takes a deep breath.

“Yes.”

And then he kisses him.

And Baekhyun, well, he kisses back.

It almost feels like fire, to both of them. An instant burn that tingles, setting off a sensation so pleasurable that Chanyeol almost scoops him into his arms. His grip around him tightens, his hands roaming everywhere, just so he can touch him, to feel more of him. 

Baekhyun murmurs into the kiss, sliding his tongue across his bottom lip, and Chanyeol immediately latches on, pulling Baekhyun’s tongue into his mouth as he sucks. They don’t pull apart for a while, acting on pent-up emotions for years as if they were starved.

By the time they finally separate, they’re breathless and flushed. Baekhyun is the one to speak first, like always, and he asks. 

“So, you like me?”

“Yes, I do. I love you, actually.”

“Huh. That’s funny. Same here,” Baekhyun grins, tightening his arms around his neck.

Chanyeol plays off his astonishment surprisingly well, smoothing over his words when he says, “Wow, that is funny.”

And then Baekhyun ruins it. 

“So, about the dog…”

Chanyeol is cautious, and he raises an eyebrow in question, “Yes?”

“Can we keep him?”

\+ + + 

It’s fiery when Chanyeol presses kisses to his neck, and Baekhyun arches his spine instinctively when he feels Chanyeol’s palms on the small of his back. His hands are spread wide, fingertips reaching out to feel more of Baekhyun, to sense him under his touch.

It’s a blur, a tornado of fire, that they’re wrapped in, and Baekhyun can hardly breathe. All he wants is to feel more of Chanyeol. Despite how soft his lips are, every touch leaves Baekhyun’s skin burning and he clenches a fist in Chanyeol’s hair. It’s the low groan he hears at the back of Chanyeol’s throat, the smallest noise that arouses him so fully he presses himself up against him, leaving no space between the two of them.

He’s hot, so hot everywhere, and Baekhyun can’t help but crave even more of the heat. He slips his hands under Chanyeol’s shirt, feeling every line and muscle of his abdomen. Chanyeol has got his bottom lip between his teeth, and Baekhyun slides his palm around to his back, inching towards his shoulder blades.

“Please, take this off,” Baekhyun is desperate, and Chanyeol obeys quickly. They shed their clothing down until their briefs, and it’s in one quick motion that Chanyeol scoops Baekhyun up, who instinctively wraps his legs around his waist. 

They’re messy when they’re entangled like this. Baekhyun’s mouth is still on Chanyeol’s, his hands leaving marks in his back before he starts to track kisses everywhere he can reach.

Chanyeol drops Baekhyun onto his bed, before clambering onto the mattress right after him as he presses gentle pecks onto the inside of his thighs. Baekhyun bites his bottom lip, tilting his head back as he indulges in the feeling of the heat exuding off Chanyeol.

“Please, can you just—“

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” Chanyeol growls out, and he almost leaps over to his dresser to grab what’s needed.

Baekhyun takes the chance to wrap a hand around his own cock after shimmying his briefs down, and he lazily works his hand up and down. 

“So eager to start without me?” Chanyeol smiles, and Baekhyun can’t help but flush.

“You’re taking too long,” he replies, “come here.” 

“Am I allowed to, um, you know,” Chanyeol motions to the lube in-hand, and Baekhyun just spreads his thighs.

Chanyeol swallows, slicking his fingers up before pushing them slowly, one at a time, into him. Baekhyun lets out a soft moan, arching his back instinctively at the feel, the stretch, the warmth. He works him open gently, until Baekhyun has had enough and starts to rock down on his fingers, wanting to feel more of _him_.

With the sight of Baekhyun like this, naked and squirming, lips parted in elation, Chanyeol feels his own cock twitch. He takes Baekhyun’s bottom lip between his own, sucking softly before he removes his fingers. 

He shucks off his own briefs, wetting his dick with lube before pressing the tip against Baekhyun’s rim. He nudges, pushing forward slowly, and they both groan at the sensation as Chanyeol fills him.

He’s thick, and that’s why he’s taking his time. But Baekhyun adjusts quickly, and he provokes him to continue, relaxing into it as he pulls him down for another kiss. Chanyeol starts to roll his hips, letting his cock slide in and out of Baekhyun in long, drawn-out thrusts. It is intoxicating and addictive, when their bodies press together. 

All Baekhyun can feel is insane heat, the kind that burns slowly and pervades everywhere. It’s Chanyeol that is doing this, with his hips increasing in speed as he fucks Baekhyun over and over. They don’t stop, and Chanyeol doesn’t take a minute to slow down. Their pace strengthens, and Baekhyun is whimpering continuously, letting swears and soft whispers spill from his lips as Chanyeol reaches a hand down to fist his cock.

“I want us to come at the same time,” he says as a way of explanation, and Baekhyun looks at him with stars in his eyes.

Chanyeol pushes in hard, only ever drawing his cock out halfway before thrusting forward again. His hips snap against the smooth skin of Baekhyun’s thighs, and Chanyeol leans down to make his mark.

He bites, an inch above his collarbone, never slowing down his pace as he jerks Baekhyun’s dick. He can feel it rising, the heat getting uncontrollable, when the fire spreads to his center, and Baekhyun starts to tremble. 

It’s enough to make him come, and he cries out as he does, wrapping his legs around Chanyeol with closed eyes as his orgasm washes over him. It’s a fraction of a second later, when Chanyeol sees the come streak across his abdomen, that he follows, filling Baekhyun up in synchronization with his moans. 

Baekhyun can feel every pulse of his cock inside him, and he clenches down, drawing another low groan from Chanyeol. They’re both still on fire, with the warmth gradually dissipating between them.

Chanyeol lowers himself down onto the mattress next to Baekhyun, pupils dilated and eyes even more a brilliant ice-blue. They stare at one another, tracing the details of each other’s face as they commit each feature to memory. 

As always, Baekhyun is the one who speaks first.

“Well, that only took us twenty-four years.”

\+ + + 

“So what do I call you now?”

“Chanyeol.”

“Guardian best friend?”

“Chanyeol.”

“Guardian _demon_ best friend?”

“ _Chanyeol_.”

“Best guardian demon friend?”

“Chanyeol.”

“Guardian demon boyfriend?”

“Chanyeol… boyfriend.”

“No, I think I prefer the ‘guardian demon’ in the title. Makes it a bit more fancy, don’t you think? Guardian demon boyfriend-slash-best-friend.” Baekhyun turns his head to stare at him, a cheeky smile on his lips. 

They’re still lying in bed (cleaned up and well-fed) letting the last rays of the sun trickle into the room as the golden hour hits. Their sheets are half on the bed, half off, and clothes are still strewn everywhere.

Chanyeol grunts in frustration, rolling over to bury his face in the pillow. “I really want to hurt you right now.”

Baekhyun shrugs, “You can’t. You’re my guardian demon best-friend-slash-now-boyfriend.”

Chanyeol summons enough energy to lift his head up, staring at him. Baekhyun’s hair curls in in cute, simple waves, almost to the point of covering his eyes. Chanyeol reaches a hand over, brushing the strands out of the way before placing a kiss in the center of his forehead. 

“I love you, but please. Can we sleep?”

Baekhyun pouts. “But I’m not tired.” 

“Then just come lie with me,” Chanyeol suggests, rolling over onto his back. He pulls Baekhyun onto him, to rest his head against his chest. 

The room stays quiet, filled with only their breathing, until Baekhyun starts again.

“What about GDBF? An abbreviation. BF works as both boyfriend, _and_ best friend.”

Chanyeol almost grumbles, but manages to keep quiet, settling for rubbing his hand in circles on Baekhyun’s bare back, and choosing to decline to answer. Baekhyun overlooks his silence, and slips in another thought. 

“Can we go running again tomorrow?”

“When you say ‘running’, do you actually mean Pokémon Go?” 

It takes a gentle nudge from Chanyeol before he answers meekly, “I was trying to get to your level.”

Chanyeol laughs, “I’m Level 39, Baekhyun. Good luck.”

“It’s probably your demon abilities. Unfair advantage, in my opinion.”

“Would you rather me not be a demon?” Chanyeol poses the question, clear sarcasm in his voice.

Baekhyun props himself up on his elbow to stare down at his boyfriend, placing his hand on Chanyeol’s cheek. 

“I want you to be Park Chanyeol. My best friend, boyfriend, and guardian demon.”

“You know, Baekhyun, I think I could get onboard with that.”


End file.
